


After-Hours

by gaybreadstick



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M, Office Sex, touch-starved fushimi, what the FUCK is an emotion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 18:50:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18058064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaybreadstick/pseuds/gaybreadstick
Summary: a king and his knight enjoy a late-night meeting.





	After-Hours

At first the touches were slow and light. Chaste and warm. Lazy and curious. Fingertips would trace along embroidered hems and shimmering, engraved buttons as they memorized the familiar and yet unfamiliar territory.

The King was silent as he allowed the tense exchange.

_Infuriatingly so._

Fushimi's hands did all the seeing for him as he was reluctant to meet the gaze of his patient king. Each touch was steadily placed with determination, like he was brushing over the keys to his laptop, combing over the fine print detailing the contents of the day's work; but his King's attire was far softer, far gentler on the pads of his weary digits than any key could ever hope to be.

Munkata's eyes fluttered open and closed in soft, rhythmic patterns. There was so much concentration in the Fushimi's eyes as he made his way around the King's frame. His brow creased in concern. The usually stoic expression firmly fixed on those thin lips was wavering. He could see Fushimi's mind racing miles a minute, trying to determine the best course of action as if he were planning some type of strategy. Munakata almost chuckled at his subordinate's dedication to the task. Fushimi was desperately seeking the right route but refraining solely out of fear of making a mistake. He had conceded to their meeting with some indignity and spite hours earlier, though it was now obvious he hadn't been prepared for quite this turn of events.

"Here," Munakata took Fushimi's hand and lifted it to his cheek, leaning into it. Their eyes finally met, Fushimi's quick to flee. Violet eyes glinted with a smile at that. Hands rose again, this time tugging on the jabot neatly tucked into the front of his coat. The silken fabric drew away from his neck and was set to the side before fingers returned to free the buttons still tightly fixed in place.

Fushimi drew his hand away to watch, annoyed that Munakata had taken control. Nevertheless he readjusted himself on his perch upon the King's desk.

Buttons came loose and slivers of soft skin were beginning to peek through the pale material. Fushimi's breath hitched. Here he was in the dimly lit room of the Blue King's office - and here was the said royal _undressing_ for him. What a baffling instance in of itself. He really hadn't anticipated that this would be the end result of their so-called meeting. In fact, on the scale of events he foresaw in their evening appointment he had excepted Munakata to be offering him some tea or dryly going over the next day's plan all while mulling over some puzzle. Hell, even the man prattling off on some seemingly irrelevant monologue felt more akin to their usual after-hours visits.

"Come a little closer," Munakata instructed with a gesture, snapping Fushimi from his thoughts.

"Closer?" Fushimi replied rather hollowly.

"I will not ask again."

Fushimi brought himself towards the edge of the desk's surface, only to have his arms captured by Munakata's hands and pulled to lure him forward even more. The action had Fushimi reeling with questions - that was, until he was perfectly straddling the man's lap.

"Comfortable?"

"Been better," Fushimi answered sourly.

"A shame." Munakata lifted his hands to the front of the grey vest concealing Fushimi's torso. They lingered in the air mere inches away from the first button. Fushimi was ready for Munakata to start popping off each one - but oddly enough... Nothing happened.

Fushimi's eyes darted between those encroaching fingers and that first button.

"May I?"

The question, so simple and quaint, shook Fushimi. Immediately blue eyes snapped to his King's, perplexed. Munakata was sitting there neatly, gaze never once faltering as he awaited the response. Fushimi's jaw went a little slack as the two words turned over again and again in his mind. It was as if his entire body and mind had wrapped themselves around them, clung into them, and drew on them as if they were a life force. He was so used to people just taking; robbing him of his possessions, even his very flesh. The concept of one asking was... unreal. He hadn't noticed his nails had long ago begun to dig into the fabric of the King's chair making his knuckles white. He was completely entranced in that waiting face. That patient, calm face of a man whose attention was completely on him in that very moment. Asking permission.

A hard lump was swallowed as Fushimi cleared his throat to speak.

"...Yes."

Munakata nodded and began to slowly work the buttons. They slipped through the fabric seamlessly but the very action felt like a gradual lag in time to Fushimi. The way Munakata's fingers handled each and every dark plastic disc with deliberate delicate direction was breathtakingly rhythmic. Fushimi felt a pang of annoyance flutter by his conscious thoughts at how he found the king's fingers to be considered _captivating_ , but let it go.

The king was moving onto the white dress shirt now, and again Munakata paused. Somewhere in the back of his mind, it made Fushimi want to strangle him, but he couldn't ignore the truth of the situation. Munakata was checking in with him - making sure he was all right. Each and every time his hands graced Fushimi's body.

"I'm not fragile," Fushimi grit out under his breath.

"I never implied you were," Munakata mused back.

Refusing to accept that, Fushimi continued. "You're treating me like I am."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

"Your reasoning?"

Fushimi tensed but lifted his head and let his eyes flutter closed in a feigned dismissive gesture. "You keep touching me like I'll crack."

"Oh? But if I want you to crack?"

The answer caught him slightly off guard. Munakata was smirking almost devilishly beneath him and Fushimi felt his brow crease again.

"You... Want me to crack?" he echoed.

"Perhaps."

"Why?"

Munakata finished unbuttoning the front of his shirt and slid a palm under onto Fushimi's bare side making the man twitch at the contact. 

"You are too tense."

Fushimi made a scowl though there was no bite behind it.

"You need to relax," continued the king in a soothing tone. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to Fushimi's collarbone. In an instant fingers scrambled into Munakata's hair and clawed into his scalp. Fushimi held him there in place completely immobile for a few agonizing moments before swallowing and releasing him gingerly, angry at the truth in the king's words.

Munakata smiled despite having nails scraping his skin. He repeated the action, letting his lips graze over the sensitive skin on Fushimi's neck. Once more the other man's muscles seized up, only to reluctantly loosen.

Inwardly Fushimi was cursing. How could the king have such an effect on him like this? He'd had hands on him before. Cold, callous, grabbing hands. They ravaged his body and tread boldly wherever they had pleased. But these hands. The king's hands. They were featherlight as they slid over his side. A thumb ran along the length of a rib lazily. Fingers pressed tenderly into soft skin.

"Ngh, get on with it will you," Fushimi snarled, though again his words held no bitterness. 

"Hmm?" Munakata hummed lazily, continuing to caress his side. "What am I to be getting on with?"

"You know," Fushimi spat, waving a hand.

"Do I?"

_How infuriating._

Fushimi's hands flung to his belt, unfastening it and giving Munakata a sour look.

"Ah, so that's what you want," Munakata purred, inclining his head.

"Wh-" his response faltered.

"Well, if I may." Munakata began sliding Fushimi's belt out from its loops. His fingers lightly holding the material before neatly coiling it and setting it on his desk. "Would this help you relax?"

Again, the question perplexed Fushimi. Munakata was being so unbelievably stoic. So _casual_. Fushimi idly wondered if his king actually knew what he was doing at all.

"Do I need to spell it out for you?" came Fushimi's deadpan response.

"I value clarity," Munakata chuckled. 

Fushimi quieted, stunned for a moment at the implication behind those words, and nodded.

Nimble fingers made to move again, this time to the clasp on the front of Fushimi's pants. Just underneath the material he could feel a slight twitch. Fushimi felt his face burn though Munakata said nothing of it, continuing on as if nothing had happened. Even when he pulled Fushimi's cock from underneath the layers of clothes Munakata's expression remained unchanged; nonchalant.

Fushimi glanced away, fingers tightening into the armrests of the king's chair again.

"I want to help you relax," Munakata mused calmly, his violet eyes soothing and eased behind those thin-framed glasses. They slid down to the burnt insignia on Fushimi's chest, a look of concern swimming in them.

Fushimi's lips screwed into an uncertain frown as Munakata drew forward, kissing the burnt smear tenderly. In an instant Fushimi felt himself tense under the small gesture.

"What are you-" voice gave way to a gasp, hands moving up to cling to Munakata's shoulders as fingers wrapped around his shaft.

"Please, allow me," Munakata whispered against his chest.

Fushimi swallowed, uncertain of the gentle touches his king offered him. They were soft. Careful. 

"Ah-" Fushimi bit his lip, holding in a noise as a thumb came up to nudge beneath the head of his cock.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," Fushimi bit out, pointedly maintaining his dismissive demeanor.

"Wonderful," came the king's pleased reply. It was then that Munakata began to pick up the pace with his strokes. Meanwhile his free hand slid beneath Fushimi's open shirt, cradling the dip in his back with unparalleled tenderness.

"I'm- Not fragile!" Fushimi reiterated stiffly.

"You've mentioned, but this is not about how fragile you are physically."

"What?" 

Munakata's lips began trailing up Fushimi's neck, lazily they peppered kisses there up under his jaw. Fushimi groaned as Munakata offered a slight squeeze with his motions. Fushimi could feel himself leaking at he tip - something that didn't go unnoticed by Munakata as he swiped the drop beading there and smearing it.

"Fushimi," the name rose from between Munakata's lips like a hushed prayer, making Fushimi's spine tingle. 

"Ngh, _what_ ," he answered in his best sour tone.

Munakata merely smiled. He wasn't in the slightest surprised that Fushimi was detaching himself. Not once letting himself relish in the feeling of sensation. He was wary, and for that, Munakata could hardly blame him. The blue king was not unaware of Fushimi's previous affiliations. It was obvious that the other had plenty instances of being thrown around and used for his skill. But here he was determined to offer some inkling, some shred of peace that wouldn't make Fushimi so afraid. Some form of reassurance that he didn't have to bury his emotions.

The king quickened his pace more, still pecking light kisses on Fushimi's front as he did so.

"Hn-" again, Fushimi cut himself off before he could truly make any noise. He wouldn't allow Munakata the satisfaction of hearing him.

"There's no reason to stifle yourself."

Fushimi clenched his teeth. Of course Munakata would say something about it.

"Shut up," he sneered between breaths. As Munakata sped up his strokes, Fushimi's breath became more and more labored. His heart began to pound in his chest, vibrating at each careful touch from his king.

"Would you rather I not speak?" Munakata hummed.

"Sometimes I wish that," Fushimi huffed.

Munakata chuckled, rubbing at Fushimi's tip again with his thumb and making the other gasp. "There's no need for such venom."

Fushimi arched his back, hips involuntarily bucking into Munakata's hand once.

"Let yourself feel this," the king continued. "Let yourself relax."

"How can I?" Fushimi sneered through gritted teeth.

"By letting me help you," Munakata leaned up, pausing his strokes for a breathy moment before whispering in Fushimi's ear, " _Saruhiko_ ".

Fushimi tensed again, nails digging into the back of Munakata's jacket. Something in his chest seized with the sound of his name uttered on his king's tongue. Fushimi was trembling. Was that just his body's exhaustion? Or was it his emotions? He swallowed the lump in his throat. Others had said his name plenty of times. Always needing something, or ordering him around. Barking at him like stray dogs wanting scraps. But this, this was different. This was intimate. This was his king, lovingly caressing and reassuring him, unconcerned with anything else in that moment. This was a moment about _him_.

"Now, let me," Munakata pressed softly, resuming his attention on Fushimi's cock and speckling more kisses upon him.

Fushimi whimpered, inwardly annoyed at letting himself make such a sound, but it was the only thing he could muster through his tight throat. Pleasure was building in the pit of his gut. It twisted and churned, a fiery heat that steadily accumulated until it turned into a physical pressure. He sucked in breaths, glasses slipping down his nose as sweat collected on his brow.

"Hngh, _Captain_ ," he hoarsely hissed under his breath.

"Hmm?" Munakata cracked open an eye, looking up at Fushimi with amusement and bringing his free hand up to cup Fushimi's cheek. Fushimi flinched as the palm met his face. Instantly his eyes locked onto Munakata's as if searching for something, some sort of explanation perhaps, but was offered none. Only those beautiful eyes looking back at him fondly. _Lovingly_. Fushimi hesitantly leaned into the touch, gaze cautious, teeth biting into his lip.

" _It's all right_ ," Munakata assured.

Fushimi took in a breath and nodded curtly with a groan.

The pressure was growing to be immense. It was coiling, burning now, and begging to be released. Fushimi's head fell back as he panted, his chest flushing scarlet from the heat.

Munakata smiled, adding a little more friction with his strokes. Fushimi tensed once more, gasping as he came spurting onto Munakata's front.

Red, sweaty, and breathing heavily, Fushimi slumped against his king. Munakata carded his fingers through his hair, his other hand drawing out the last few drops from Fushimi. Neither moved from that spot for minutes. Fushimi lay there, appreciatively soaking in the coolness of Munakata's coat knowing beneath it Munakata was just as heated as he was.

"Guess I should -" Fushimi started, pushing away from Munakata to get access to the king's belt.

"Nonsense," Munakata said, cleaning himself off with a tissue. "I only intended for you to relax."

Seeing no point in arguing Fushimi resolved with a sharp "Fine", only to lean in after and give the king a messy kiss. At least that was _something_.

It was Munakata's turn to stiffen, completely taken off guard at the gesture. Fushimi leaned back, noting the sudden blush high on his king's cheeks. Those violet irises were wide with surprise, sending a pang of unfamiliar emotion rocketing through Fushimi's core. Eyes met and neither said a word, but both knew what went unspoken. Fushimi silently leaned forward once more to wrap his arms around Munakata in a tight embrace. Slowly Munakata followed suit. Against his front, Fushimi could feel Munakata's heart pounding intensely. Even his blue aura was flickering with an unusual heat that had never been felt before. _Had such a small action really effected him so...?_

"It may be wise to redress yourself a little," Munakata pointedly interrupted, adjusting his glasses. "My door _is_ unlocked, after all."

Fushimi sighed through his nose. 

"Shut up."


End file.
